Alternate Heresy Community Project

[Conn Eremon]

Would he have his canon numbers? Or in this case far in excess, if he has more than he could adequately equip?

[Wade Garrett]

Hmmm.

 

On the one hand, big heaping gobs of Astartes fit my image of the Sons. On the other, it took the 500 worlds to create the canon Thirteenth. (Although they relied heavily on resources within Ultramar for to get their toys, as evidenced by the Luciel in KNF wearing a locally created mark of power armor.)

 

I'd say either give him the canon numbers without the empire to explain his supply issues OR have his Legion be biggish but not Ultramarines/Word Bearers big with the supply issue being because he's something of a hoarder.

 

("No, we stash the new shipment of Mark IV armor on this asteroid so we'll have it in case rebellions/xenos invasions/Warp Storms/etc happen, and give those iniates the coal powered Draugr mark armor we can make out of rocks and old shoes.")

 

And now I'm imagining a department within our not Inquisition that does nothing but look for "Barabbas caches" the Legion didn't get to grab before they ran for the Eye.

[Conn Eremon]

Ordo Copia. :p

 

I like the sound of the latter. Barabbas wouldn't overstretch himself so unlogistically. Turning him into a hoarder worthy of any Skyrim character is a good way to go. There will need to be a trigger for this behavior in his background.

 

I suppose we should have a big Traitor Legion. My initial assumption remains with the Angels. I still see Colchis as the home of the original traitors, and so I see a burst in recruitment drives preceding the final event.

 

The Chainsworn and Sons of Barabbas are potentials for it as well. All three could be the traitorous Big Three that the Sons of Horus, Word Bearers and World Eaters constitute in canon.

[Wade Garrett]

And now, for something different.

 

THE SAGA OF CLEFTJAW'S FALL (a tale of the First Black Crusade, as related by the Maestersingers of the Imperial Hounds Battlesquadron)

 

Harsh was that hearing for Jonson the Jackal,

fools had enfeebled the fortress at Cadia.

Leaving it looted and lacking the while,

hordes were raging hell sent cross the land.

 

The crafty old jarl, though did not despair,

held danger close and considered, perused it,

reading each rune.

 

"Lorgar," he said to that hero of heroes, "hold me that stronghold

or fire it and raze it, do what you can or else do what you must."

 

Nothing daunted, Cleftjaw raced north to Cadia,

gathered the garrison and gave them his orders.

"Jonson the Jackal is raising a host,

time's what he asks while he tempers an army,

Never give up this gate to our land, hold this door fast

though death comes against us."

 

But Wyrd has no favorites, fate no fosterlings,

Lorgar the war wise, winner of battles,

lost his first combat. Burnt up by fever his soul twined with death.

 

Pain.

His whole universe has shrunk to nothing else, or else the agony has grown to encompass all else. He cannot tell which it is, cannot even discern the worried faces of the Lichpriests and Vehlmgard at his bedside.

 

His only respite is when he lapses into fever dreams of a dead world, of snowy forests and chill winds, but now it seens the pain has followed him. He sprawls at the center of a clearing, slumping bonelessly in grey snow that does nothing to cool the sickly heat coursing in his veins. Four figures circle him, like wolves around a dying stag, close enough he could touch them if he could lift his arms, yet he cannot make out their features.

 

"And so it ends." remarks one of the faceless. "Not as we originally intended, but there is satisfaction to be found in this, nontheless."

 

"And who are you, to speak of ends?" The Emperor's Hound rasps, lifting himself up on his elbows. "You think one cut will fell me? I have had many such. I will recover."

 

"Not so." replies another of the figures. "The blade that dealt that one was...special. And you already know us." It kneels by his side. "When you woke in the night as a child, weeping for succour from what you beheld in your dreams...those faces you saw? They were ours."

 

Now Lorgar can see this figure clearly. It wears his face, but loathsomely changed. The old wound from the Black Axe is almost unnoticeable among the brands, scars, piercings, and strips of skin teased and stretched by inset hooks and spikes. It inhales deeply, as if it tastes his suffering on the wind and relishes it.

 

"You lie!"

 

"Often, and about many things." The first speaker agrees. Now he can see it clearly as well. It too apes his form, but draped in a flowing robe that shimmers silver, with every inch of its skin and clothing covered in rattling bone fetishes, mystic runes of dire import, and clinking vials of poisons and potions, all the trappings of the fabled maleficar.

 

Its eyes shift endlessly from one shade of gold to another as it addresses him. "But never when the truth will serve our purposes better." It tilts its head sorrowfully, the very soul of regret. "Such a waste of potential. But in the end you will belong to us nontheless."

 

"Never!"

 

"Never and forever are not words for men." The third figure's voice gurgles like pus draining from a wound. The Primarch shudders at the sight of it, for its form, that of a rotting corpse that has clawed its way out of the grave, shares a far closer kinship to his current appearance than either of its companions.

 

"The corruption is in you. It will grow. You will putrefy, body and soul, becoming a mewling, mindless thing covered in its own filth. And in the end you will bawl like an infant and beg us to take you by the hand and lead you through the Dark Gates."

 

A disgusted snort interrupts this recitation, and the final form shifts into focus. This twisted reflection wears his powered warplate, but dyed the searing red of gore and flame. It reeks of charred flesh and hell, and the madness of the baresark blazes in its eyes.

 

"You must excuse my brother." The kneeling doppelganger says, gilded chains and gems strung from the flayed strands of its lips clinking in time with its words. "The artistry of all this is quite lost on him."

 

Suddenly, there is something else, sonething that is neither the mockery of his doubles or the fever pain. A sound as faint as feathers brushing a windowsill, a small still voice, the voice of a child, weeping.

 

In the apocetharium of the Astartes Strike Cruiser "Serpent In the Black Sea" Lorgar opens his eyes.....

 

END PART I

[Conn Eremon]

Nice little sequence, reminiscent of Horus' dreams upon Davin.

 

Is that the conclusion of the great naval battle fought between us at the Heresy's opening? Where Lorgar is blasted from his ship?

[Wade Garrett]

Err, not to be obnoxious, but may I direct your attention to the headings up top that list it as "A Tale of the First BLACK CRUSADE" and mention the Imperial Hounds "Battlesquadron", not Legion?

;)

 

Edit:

Italics are in universe knowledge, narrative is third person omniscient.

[Conn Eremon]

Sorry, the italics depicting Corax ordering Lorgar to deal with Jonson threw me off I guess.

 

Wait. Re-read it . . . Read it again . . . I think I get it now. Jonson's post-Heresy Warmaster, has Lorgar hold the Cadian Gate while he amasses a response force. Lorgar survives but is haunted by it.

 

To be fair, that was the complete opposite of plain english. :p

[Wade Garrett]

It's a saga!

 

They always go something like:

Up spake the sea reaver,

long haired, killer of many

and fortress' s ruin

:p

 

Also, note this that segment is part one. Neither the saga nor the narrative is finished just yet.

[Ace Debonair]

"Arrows always blotted out the sun, I seem to remember, and the minstrel didn't get paid unless blade struck down on armour somewhere in the first stanza."

I've been waiting four years to quote (well, paraphrase) 'Who's afraid of Beowulf' on this forum, so cheers, Wade, for bringing up the nature of sagas.

[Hyaenidae]

Um... Not trying to be an ass, but.... shouldn't we try to refocus our energy to the great crusade and the Atrocity, and let the scouring and beyond come later? We really haven't moved on this project thus far, beyond 'dartboarding' ideas.

[Conn Eremon]

Pffft. 1000heathens. More like 1000 :cuss es.

 

 

Nah, yeah, you're right. Admittedly spitballing ideas is just fun, and if you look at the Guilliman Heresy we had a bug period of that too, before we got serious.

 

But since meanie ol' Heathens wants to spoil our fun, why don't we have a sound off.

 

We know the Legions, we know the Primarchs. We have a lot of ideas about what goes on and what happens. So to make sure we are all on the same page, let's give a bit of a blurb about what your Legions do and have happen to them. Nothing fancy, just a short summary to make sure nobody is being left behind.

 

I'll start.

 

Jonson in the Great Crusade is one of the Imperium's greatest generals, next to Barabbas and Corax.

When the Ravenmaster plays his hand, Jonson, a potential rival for superiority, is made a target to alleviate the attention Fulgrim has brought to bear on him.

Though Corax's plans backfire, many Legions not in his pocket are decimated. Jonson and the First have to fend off first the anarchist Lupercal and later the towering inferno of Nocturne, Adra'Malek.

Jonson and the pocket empire he forges during this attack survives the assault and the two are driven off (other sources could say they were ordered away).

Jonson and the Palatinate isolate themselves from the remainder of the Heresy. When Imperial forces reach them, a stand off occurs until Jonson relinquishes his Empire in exchange for his demands being met. One is to break up the power of the Legions. The other is to grant him command of the remaining Imperial military.

 

Leman Barbedor has a void-born soul. Though envisioned to be found early, Leman avoids discovery until later in the coyrse of the Crusade.

This leads to a fleet-based Legion with heavy ties to Rogue Trader Militants, searching for him.

When discovered he and Lorgar make up the Imperium's grandest Naval Commanders, which sparks a rivalry between them.

Leman joins Corax in his play for power, for reasons unknown, beginning with a surprise assault on the gathered Imperial hounds fleets.

Unlike other Legions, the Red Corsairs do not flee to the Eye of Terror but instead the Maelstrom. They have since acted independently from the other Legions, except in a mercenary manner.

 

Sanguinius is worshiped as a god made flesh on Colchis, an adulation he learns to crave.

He is soundly rebuffed for his claims to divinity by the Emperor, which sparks his hatred and road to damnation.

It is his words that poison Corax's ears, telling him of the dark pacts that would grant him his deeper desires.

Sanguinius and his Legion of Angels were Corax's foremost supporters, and by his will secured many a victory.

The sole defeat to mar the God-king's record at this time is the unsuccessful attempt to convert the Ghost Fox and his Legion at Caliban.

After Corax's defeat, the Angels reject the Chainsworn and their corpse-god for their failure. A future Abaddon-clone could bring them back, if that is the road we take.

 

Magnus the Ghost Fox, Red-maned King of Kings, is a force of moderation in the Librarius Project. His desires for a conclusive edict from the Emperor is spoiled by Ullanor, much to the advantage of Barabbas and Bron

During the Heresy, Magnus solidly joins Fulgrim's cause followung Caliban's near destruction at the hands of the Angels, now the Fallen.

 

Some have more than others, but some have had more attention placed upon them.

 

Okay, once I have everyone post and we are all aware of the big, important sweeps, we will begin working exclusively on what happens during the Great Crusade, from the Unification Wars to the battle at Ullanor. Once we have satisfied this era, we will begin the Ullanor Conference.

[Wade Garrett]

With all due respect to Cormac and Heathens, I have been slaving over notebook paper with a No. 2 pencil for minutes and minutes at a time, and I intend to post Parts II and III though it bring down the dome of the heavens. Because freebird.

 

FREEEEEEEEEEEBBBIIIIIIIIIIRRRD!

 

And now, on with the show.

 

-------------------------------------------------

 

"High Jarl, there are some who would say this course of action seems unwise."

 

As always, Aevalryff chooses his words with great care. He does not say "I think this is unwise" for it is not the place of the head of the Velmgarmr to question the will of the High Jarl. On the other hand, neither is it his place to let the one he is oathed to guard throw his life away pointlessly.

 

"Seems UNWISE? What could possibly seem unwise about getting up off your sickbed weak as a half drowned kitten, completely disregarding the advice of the healers to chat with a gaggle of ragged brats, and then declaring an intent to storm a space hulk holding at the very LEAST a company of Traitor Astartes and Emperor knows what else with less than a Bond Pack?"

 

As always, Senior Lichpriest Sor Talgron feels no need whatsoever to restrain his caustic remarks. It is a tendency that has gotten the white haired Terran elder into more than a few bare knuckle challenge bouts, in spite of his honored position, where more than a few Hounds young and old have discovered that age has left his anvil jaw and fists of stone as untouched as his sharp tongue.

 

"It's a shame we have no Shield Maids." Lorgar says, not even glancing at his gene sons. He is looking out the arming chamber's viewports, watching the "gaggle of brats" Sor Talgron spoke so slightingly of play with his cyber mastiffs. The hulking slabs of Fenrisian muscle and Mechanicum ingenuity, tolerate the indignity with a wide range of responses, from Gripper's icy aloofness to Dagda's affectionate licks that smear gun oil over chubby hands and laughing faces. And why shouldn't they be happy? The great Primarch Lorgar Cleftjaw, the Hunting Hound, has promised to drive away the monsters that have come to their land and save their parents, still trapped down on St. Jormaine's Hope. "They were at my back for every battle, right from the first. It feels wrong to go into this fight without them. And it would give me something more pleasant to look at than you two and your ugly faces."

 

"High Jarl." Aevalryff presses. "We were fortunate to get those children off the planet when the Infernal Guard overran it. If their parents are still down there, they are most likely either dead, or wishing they were. Jarl Jonson's relief force will arrive in..."

 

"There is still fighting going on down there." The Cleftjaw answers, in a tone that brooks no defiance. "Those children still have hope. And I will not be the one to take that from them."

 

"Lorgar, you are wounded and weak! It is a...a miracle you still stand!" Sor Talgron picks up the refrain. "There is no need to..."

 

"I am dying." The scarred Primarch's words fall across the chamber like a hatchet driving into a skull. "That laughing bastard's hell blade put a poison in my veins none of your healers, nor our Mechanicus allies, not even the Wyrdspinners can cure. It is killing me as we speak, and it will do so whether I board that ship or lie shaking in my bed. But I'll greet my mother and brothers in the Forever Halls with my head high if I can send some of those traitor dregs through the Dark Gates ahead of me."

 

Neither the Legion Champion nor the medica have a response to that. Lorgar doesn't look as if he's dying, he looks like he's already dead. His skin is consumptive pale and tinged with blue, like a corpse slain by frost, and it is only due to the servomotors in his armor and judicious use of his own wyrd talents that he is standing now.

 

"Jarl. I trust you have a plan?" Aevalryff asks. He does not mind dying at his lord's side in a hopeless battle, has never even imagined any other end for himself, but as leader of the Velmgarmr it falls to him to keep Lorgar's honor intact, and to fall without keeping his promise to the children would be a blemish on it.

 

"My plan is simplicity itself. We board the ship, destroy its primary and secondary bridges, and leave it wallowing blind and deaf in the void."

 

"Simple plans are usually the best." Sor Talgron says dryly. "Less to go wrong."

 

"Ha!" Aevalryff claps the old man on his shoulder guard. "Sometimes, Terran, you speak in a way that makes me regret breaking your nose in that bout!"

 

"My life's ambition is fufilled at last. And as I recall, I broke your jaw in that same bout, pup!"

 

-----------------------------------------------

 

Tybaral cannot believe his eyes. A single boarding torpedo. The Imperials have the audacity to send a single torpedo's worth of men and material against the Bellephoran? This passes beyond the realm of insult into sheer comedy. He voxes orders to a contingent of Angels stationed in that quadrant to deal with the intruders and turns his attention back ro the overall battle. This is only part of the New Warmaster's great gambit, but by performing well here, by showing he can weld the fracticious warriors of the Enlightened Legions into a functioning whole, the Chainsworn fleetmaster may well earn a place of eternal power amidst the Princes of the Warp.

 

They coursed through the black ship

like weasels through warrens, hunting for Lorgar whom they hated the most.

Least of the lucky, some at last found him, withered and dying, a shred of himself.

Gladly they rushed in, but glee became panic.

Up from the grip of the grave gripping weapons, the Cleftjaw arose to wreak his last slaughter.

Killing though killed, conquered, he won.

 

End Part II of III

[Wade Garrett]

An armored man walks the corridors of a burning starship, occasionally uttering a whistle of appreciation at the carnage around him.

 

Although sized to his much larger frame, his armor is no more ornate than that worn by the packs of his sons who likewise roam the ship's interior, stripping it of anything of value.

 

The dying vessel is a treasure trove of relic weapons, power armor, anmunition, fuel, even the sorcerous trinkets and tomes they find can be traded for more practical valuables back in the Maelstrom.

 

He finds what he has been seeking at the center of a great ring of red and black armored figures, all of whom are being extremely careful not to get too close to the dying Primarch seated with his back to the bulkhead.

 

His weapons and armor are richer prizes than almost anything else aboard, but every one of those surrounding him has been well schooled in the Rules.

 

Rule One is simply this:

No treasure was ever any use at all to a dead man.

 

So they wait, for the poison and a thousand cuts, burns, shell craters, and other wounds to steal the last of the seated warrior's life. It will not take long.

 

"You!" the Cleftjaw snarls, somehow finding the strength to lift his head and glower at the new arrival. "If I had...one more ounce of strength...crush your skull!"

 

"You'd certainly try." The man in plain armor agrees. "Blood of the depths, you scuppered this fine lady well enough."

 

But the other is already dead, and he experiences a curious sense of loss. There are precious few constants in this bedamned galaxy, but he had almost come to believe their long and well nourished mutual hatred was one such.

 

"Leave him his gear." He snaps to the raiders who have finally started to advance on the corpse. "Bastard earned that much, at least."

 

"And his mates?"

 

"Eh." The armored giant waves one hand flippantly. "Strip'em to the bones, hell, take the bones themselves if ye can find a use for them." He may have discovered an unwelcome sentimental streak within himself, but he is pleased to find sentiment only extends so far.

 

In brief is the death lay of Lorgar, the leader.

Who laid down his life for the Empire and its people,

holding the doorway for

Jonson the Jackal;

pearl among jarls,

who paid in the sequel!

Never was brother avenged with more slayings!

END PART III OF III

[Conn Eremon]

Aaaaand silence. Come on folks, I'm not asking for much (am I?). Just put up a bit of a summary of the events that you are aware of that relate to your Primarchs/Legions.

 

If you've gotten a little lost in some of the surges of activity and posts, don't worry. Just post what you are aware of, no matter how little, so we can move on and start from the literal beginning.

[Wade Garrett]

The Sons of Barabbus attack Prospero, smash a possible cure for Emps, and kidnap Anubis, who is later rescued from Olympia by Konrad Dominus. Though I'm not certain why they were so quick to jump on the "Let's kill dad and our brothers!" train.

 

Ferrous Mordax and Dorn run amuck in the Palatinate, drawing Loyalists in for the Shattering at Vilamus. Ferrous and Dorn fight to a mutual kill when Dorn shows his true colors.

 

The Imperial Hounds are mauled in the Red Corsairs ambush at the Boros Gate, reorganize to raid behind traitor lines, and gut the Corsairs at Fenris, though they lose their homeworld in the process.

[Ace Debonair]

Aaaaand silence. Come on folks, I'm not asking for much (am I?). Just put up a bit of a summary of the events that you are aware of that relate to your Primarchs/Legions.

If you've gotten a little lost in some of the surges of activity and posts, don't worry. Just post what you are aware of, no matter how little, so we can move on and start from the literal beginning.

Oops, sorry.

It's coming on for midnight and I'm basically busy until after the weekend starting from first thing tomorrow, but I'll try and get my Legions as I understand them summarized as soon as I get a break and am awake enough to type coherently.

[Adra'Melek]

Regarding the Infernal Legion, they (for unknown reason at the moment, mainly for numbers :)) sided with Corax and were involved in the attack on Jonson. During this campaign the legion fall for their suppressed rage and lose it, eventually drawing the attention and patronage of Khorne.

 

Edit: BY the way I want to use my picture (avatar?) as the legion symbol. If you can have angels why not devils? Both are 'myths'

[Hyaenidae]

With an ice storm en route, it sounds like I might be getting a free day off tomorrow, to gather my thoughts to place here.

 

Fingers crossed for mother nature to do her best, eh?

[Noctus Cornix]

We got moved, again? :huh:

[Ace Debonair]

We got moved, again?

More than that, we practically got our own forum.

[Conn Eremon]

Yeah, I notices that too. No complaints.

[Noctus Cornix]

Its kind of annoying to keep fishing around for the thread but I'll just follow it now.

[Hyaenidae]

Ice storm turned out to be weak, so I'm stuck in inspections all week. My Primarch roll ups will have to wait til Saturday. Sorry, gents. I'm already having to sneak B&C messages as is, lol.

[Ace Debonair]

Yay, free time! Here we go then:

EDIT:

Left a word out.

 

Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children are the ones who discover Corax's plan to kill the Emperor and rule in his stead. Fulgrim confronting his brother is what really starts the inter-Legionary wars.

The EC are present at the siege of Terra, where Fulgrim and Konrad work together to finally topple the mighty Arch-Betrayer, although Fulgrim's probably gonna get maimed further in the process, because Chaos Corax is all kinds of powerful.

 

 

The White Scars and Lasartine Bron side with Corax and loathe Fulgrim for shattering the one honest chance for galactic peace humanity had.

 

Bron probably does something during the Great Atrocity, but I don't think we settled on anything yet.

 

 

The Astral Wolves and Lupercal don't really formally pick a side. Corax has his allies whisper of Jonson's empire building to Lupercal, painting Jonson as a malicious usurper. Lupercal goes to cast down his brother's tyranny, but Jonson is his equal in strategy and guile, and the battle becomes a long-running war.

 

When the Astral Wolves see how Corax and his other brothers embrace and swear themselves to Chaos, Lupercal and his lads take a third option and find some other corner of the galaxy to lurk in. They stay there and fight all comers, until Lupercal's death, whereupon the Legion shetters into a hundred warbands and goes all over the place.

[Adra'Melek]

Perhaps the Astral Wolves recoil at what the Infernal legion becomes? Initially welcoming their support but turns to discust as they fall into bloodlust. maybe even at Melek's assention.